Guardian
by SteampunkPirate
Summary: Gabriel would recognize Sam Winchester's soul from thousands across millennia. His attachment to him is completely contradictory to orders, but he wouldn't stop for the world. Finally, when Sam almost dies, Gabriel is permitted to watch over him as his guardian angel, but he finds him more broken than he could have imagined... Terrible summary- my apologies.
1. Chapter 1

The first time Gabriel saw Sam Winchester's soul was the day Rome fell. He stood in Heaven, watching the anarchy below- the roaring fires and the pillaging, rape and hysterical panic, the screaming and bloodshed that would lead to even more death through disease and starvation. He watched a young mother, who could be no more than eighteen, fear in her eyes and tears raked down her face. She gathered a child in her arms, holding him close to her breast, attempting to escape the burning wreckage that was now her home, her father and husband dead on the threshold.  
Neither of the two made it outside.

He watched her back arch and her body crumple as the axe collided with the side of her head, the little boy falling to the ground, dead before he could even realise that his mother was not longer holding him. Gabriel could feel an aching sadness- a desperation to protect those he was sworn to serve, but could only watch- half in fascination, half in pity- as the little silver balls of light floated upwards or downwards. Could the humans have seen them, the sheer mass of departed souls would have bright enough to blind. He watched the soul of the young mother slip from between her lips, illuminating her half mangled, shattered face and bloodied throat, before slowly drifting upwards, swirling in on itself in small waves, drifting from side to side on its slow ascent.

Prayers were being screamed down there. Hysterical prayers to anyone who would listen, begging for their lives, the lives of their children, their mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters and husbands and wives. To be spared from the fire, from the fear, from the confusion. One by one the prayers were cut short, though the noise remained deafening as those who were lost were replaced with others, succumbing to the hysteria. He could hear them, individuals among hoards of others who were weeping the same prayers. The din was almost unbearable.

Eventually, he was unable to watch any longer. So instead, he turned his attention to his brother, Michael, who was sat in silence, also watching the carnage, face impassive.

"Gabriel." He said, without looking up. "You seem troubled."

"How can you watch this anarchy, brother?" Asked Gabriel, "They slaughter each other in the thousands, those who we are supposed to protect. Who we are supposed to revere?"  
"It is human nature, Gabriel." Replied Michael, untroubled, who had not moved from his position. He looked up at him, an expression almost akin- if he were capable of such- to concern on his face. "We are ordered to observe humanity. And so we will observe. We cannot meddle in what we are ordered to watch."  
"Yes but…" He trailed off. There was no point. Michael was never one to question his orders.  
"What?" Asked Michael.  
"Nothing."  
"Gabriel. You know as well as I what our role is. We are not to interfere in this. We are simply to watch. This is the Plan. It is not clear to any of us, but we will do as we are ordered. Mistakes through insubordination are those of humans, not angels."  
With that, Michael turned away from him, looking back at the anarchy below, face becoming impassive once again. The matter was closed.

It was then that Gabriel saw it.

A small silver glow many miles away, just behind the crook of a mountain, glowing faintly. It was unmistakably a human soul. There was no mistake, given how many he had seen. But it wasn't moving. It drifted aimlessly, neither spiralling down nor floating up. It just... was.  
There was something different about this one, some sort of pull, a light that made him desperate to touch it. He was forbidden to do so, of course. Souls were the business of his father. Even archangels could not interfere. It was bright and tinted blue, as many of those destined for heaven, not white like those of the unborn. But it did not belong to anyone- not yet anyway. How it got and what it was doing there he didn't know, but he thought, just for a second, that he wanted to disobey.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam's life hadn't been great since he was six months old.

His father liked to drink way more than was healthy for him after his wife died, and though his brother- who he woud walk to the ends of the Earth for- always did his best to keep the two of them doing alright, the lack of a steady parent made things difficult sometimes. John Winchester was never an angry or violent drunk, and he loved his boys, but the temptation of the bottle was too strong for him every time he tried to quit. He tried his best, sometimes making dinner, and often at least trying to make an effort, but days were just too long, and the drink was just too appealing.  
His older brother Dean had an ingrained habit of looking after Sam- mainly because he had to. It was often at his own expense, and by the time he was twelve Sam was aware of the things that Dean was giving up for him, and although he tried to minimalise the damage, Dean was just more skilled at cutting corners than he was at diverting him from doing so.  
It wasn't that they were poor, exactly, as John still had a job at a mechanic's. He'd been demoted to desk and paperwork, but mercifully hadn't been fired. It was the sort of small-run business that had to be understanding with their employees. However, Dean still took a weekend job at the same mechanic's, all whilst attending parents' evenings for Sam and helping him with homework where he could. He was a remarkable person, in Sam's opinion. Sam had tried to make his effort, but Dean had viciously cut him down, telling his he was too damned smart to sacrafice his schoolwork and that it wasn't his job and not his thing to worry about. Nothing Sam said could make a difference, and he eventually just settled for trying to make things easier on Dean. Which was why, when Dean told him that he was going to skip on the college place he'd got- an engineering course at a school a couple of days drive away- Sam told him in no uncertain terms there was no way in hell that he was going to let that pass. They'd had screaming arguments about it, and it took a good two months to wear him down to the point where he agreed to go, so long as he could check in at intervals which under certain laws could be considered stalking.

He was sixteen when it was confirmed to him that he was gay. He fell for a guy in his year called Joe, with whom he went out for three months. He told Dean, who was sickeningly supportive of him, and they agreed not to bring it up to John. They had no evidence of him being homophobic, but they didn't want to risk it. The guys at school found out. Apart from the subtle teasing that happened, it never amounted to anything. It wasn't a disappointment or an error- just a factor he would have to incorporate into his life.

Sam was twenty when his life went to shit. He'd kept his dad together as well as he'd promised his brother, and got a place at a good university, but after that he started spiralling.  
He got into a taxi after a party during his second year and a truck hit the side of it going across the freeway. A piece of metal went through his shoulder and there was no way to save the mobility of his right arm. The realisation that he would never be able to use his arm again and the need to readjust most of his life around it sent him downwards. They taught him to use his left, but his writing was sloppy and it took him twice as long to do normal things. He fell far behind in his school work, and he couldn't find a job in the vacinity that he could do. His inability to pay back his student loans meant that he lost his place. They diagnosed him as depressed, and Sam was sure to keep it to himself. Dean offered to help him out, but Sam insisted that he was coping, still happy-faced. As far as Dean was concerned, Sam was still in school. He'd met a nice girl, apparently, and the two of them were living in Indiana. He couldn't drag him back into supporting him again, and it wasn't like he could ask his dad for help. They'd never been able to get him out of his habits, but he was doing alright, though not to the extent that he could ask for financial aid. He was determined that he wasn't going to spend the rest of his life through help.  
Alongside his place at school, he also lost his accomodation. He ended up living in a tiny apartment in a small town, working in a supermarket. Not that there was any shame in that.  
But he couldn't afford the antidepressents they prescribed him, nor the doctor's appointments. He found himself leaning towards bad habits. He never touched alcohol like his dad did, but there were other things that he really wasn't very proud of. Mostly anything to get him out of his head.  
He continued on a steady track downwards until he ended up on the side of the freeway. He didn't know what he was doing, really- it was as if he were functioninig automatically. As if he were just following the logical steps with how bad he was feeling. When he woke up in the hospital, he wanted to be relieved, but he couldn't find it in him. They called his brother, who immediately drove down. They weren't agreeing to let him out unless under the care of someone who could look after him, so he was down for at least three days in the hospital. It was during the second day that he woke up with the strange man sat on his bed.

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	3. Chapter 3

Sam woke up with a headache. The light was soft and yellow in the room, as the curtains were closed, but it was still enough to hurt his eyes. He'd been feeling groggy for the past few days, mostly from the drugs to lessen the pain from the bruising from his fall from the freeway, but partly it was the aftermath of the experience of attempting suicide. He'd been told that after instances of huge emotional distress, people could be left exhausted and strange for days. So, he considered it highly likely that he was actually still asleep when he saw a man that he didn't recognise dressed in a suit sat on the end of his bed. He sat up, bleary eyed and confused as the man smiled at him. He was short, with dark blonde hair, and his smile was lopsided. It didn't dawn on Sam immediately that he had probably been watching him sleep.

"Hey, Sammy." He said softly, extending a hand as if to stop him, and then retracting it as Sam reached a forty five degree angle. "My name's Gabriel."  
"Can I ask what you're doing here?" Whether it was the meds or the fact that he'd just woken up, he didn't know, but he couldn't really find too much concern. There wasn't much chance that the guy was a psychopath, but if he were a murderer, he would just be doing him a favour. Gabriel's brow crinkled suddenly. "Don't think like that." He said, and it was at this point that the proper amount of confusion struck him.  
"What?" _Think _like that? Think like what? Who was this guy? How did he know his name?  
Gabriel didn't answer him, instead examining the bedcovers with forced intent.  
"Very nineties." He remarked. "Think I saw this on an episode of Friends."  
"Who are you?" Asked Sam, moving his right arm onto the bed with his left, really starting to think this was just a weird dream.  
"Gabriel."  
"As in the angel Gabriel?" Sam asked, half sarcastically. Gabriel smirked again.  
"Exactly."  
That just made him even more confused. "What?"  
Gabriel looked up at him. "I said exactly. As in you're exactly right."  
"About what?" Sam felt drudgy, and was having difficulty concentrating on the flow of the conversation. But he still couldn't be suggesting that-  
"The angel Gabriel. That would be me." Okay, so he _was _suggesting that. This guy was crazy. Maybe he'd escaped the fourth floor...in a suit. Okay, so not hospital crazy at least. Or he was hospital crazy but had managed to get outside for a while. That was unlikely. Lord, he was tired.  
Sam blinked several times. "...Right...Because, um" Okay, how could he convince this person to leave both subtly and without him hurting him? Because there was no doubt that he was crazy now.  
"Okay. Well it would seem that I've made an awful impression." Said 'Gabriel', standing up, "but we can work around that, I guess." He brushed imaginary dirt of his trousers and stretched out a hand. Before he could flinch away, Gabriel had rested two fingers on his forehead, and he fell fast asleep.

* * *

Sam woke up from a weird dream about a man sat on the end of his bed to find his brother sat _next _to his bed, staring out of the window. He yawned, and Dean turned around quickly, as if he'd been shot at, then relaxed. He was slightly bulkier than Sam remembered, and his hair was lighter, but his 'concerned face' was exactly the same. He was dressed in Dad's old leather jacket, a crumpled t-shirt, and a faded pair of jeans. He'd obviously been driving for a long time and looked exhausted. There were three empty cardboard coffee cups on the floor by his chair.

"Hey, Dean. You got here fast. They said you would be about three days."  
Dean nodded, letting out a breathy laugh. Sam could see the tension in his shoulders leave him as he relaxed a bit more.  
"Yeah, well," He crossed one leg over the other and positioned himself at a better angle in his chair in order to face Sam. "you scared me, Sammy. I think I hit like eight foxes on the way."  
"Have you slept?"  
"Coffee's essentially the same thing."  
"Because science, right?" That was Dean's reasoning behind every stupid explanation for his behaviour when the two of them were kids. Dean chuckled.  
"Yeah, because science, Sammy." There was a pause, and Sam allowed himself to just be happy that his brother was there with him, regardless of the circumstances. But then Dean said,  
"So, what happened?"  
Sam shrugged. He was still getting used to the fact that only one of his shoulders moved when he did that. He sat up, maneuvering his arm onto the bed to rest in his lap and looked at Dean.  
"Just...hit a low point, I guess."  
"Hit a low point?" He leant forward, uncrossing his legs and resting his forearms on his thighs. "Sam, you jumped off a bridge."  
Sam felt a little upset. Mainly because he could tell that Dean was upset, and he'd always hated that. Especially when he caused it. It was bad enough that his brother had had to look after him for fourteen years, but it was even worse when he knew he was being an ungrateful jerk. "Don't you think I know that?"  
"Yeah, sorry."  
"Don't worry about it."  
"You could have called me, Sam." He said quietly. "I thought..." he took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "I honestly thought you were doing alright."  
"That's because I wanted you to think so. I didn't want to uproot you just because I can't cope with something."  
"Sammy," Dean stood up, obviously not satisfied with their proximity, and dragged his chair a few inches closer to the bed. "I hate it when you lie to me. I worry about you."  
Suddenly, Sam felt very very guilty. A lump formed in his throat. He hadn't thought this through. He hadn't considered the possibility that he would hurt Dean even more by neglecting to tell him something. Shit.  
"You know that I would set the world on fire to make sure you're alright. And if you don't trust me-"  
"It's not that, Dean." Wow, he was suddenly getting emotional. "You know I trust you. It was- I didn't want you to see me like that. That I couldn't cope without you."  
Dean dragged the back of his hand over his face. "So you're gonna let me look after you now, right? Make sure you're safe."

It was probably the feelings of the moment that made Sam agree. He loved his brother, he really really did, and he knew he needed his help, and that even if he hadn't said yes, Dean would have stuck around anyway. He didn't bother insisting that he was fine, that it was just a mistake, that he could cope, because in all honesty it was a load of crap. Dean wanted to help, and Sam wasn't going to try and stop him this time. Last time he'd ended up jumping off a bridge, and, deep down, he didn't want to end up in that place again.

"Hey, Dean?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I had the weirdest dream."

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